


Bad News

by TwistedToxic



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bed-Wetting, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Dissociation, Don't worry Jason gets hugs, Either Or, Fluff, Gen, Good Brother Dick Grayson, He's Angry Though, He's Like A Murder Uncle, Homophobic Language, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, I fuck heavily with Bipolar ADHD Dick, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Robin, Kinda, Like it's a trauma reaction not sexual, NO SUDDEN DOWNER ENDING I PROMISE, Nightmares, Not the good kind, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slade Isn't A Creep In This, Slade Wilson is Good, The Underage and Non-Con are past, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Wet Dream, but it's brief, but like also no?, but there's rainclouds, like pretty heavy, std mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedToxic/pseuds/TwistedToxic
Summary: Jason groaned. He and Dick were doing better but now? Dickwad Grayson has the worst fucking timing. He stood up and turned the water off, slipping into his shirt and jeans. Maybe Dick wouldn't know he's here if he just kept his head low and hung out in the cave, Dick would do whatever he needed to do and fuck off back to Blüdhaven. He really, really did not feel like talking about the article and his trauma. He hadn't been there that day and this was the first time he saw him since that, so Dick would probably ask him too many questions about how he's feeling, and if he wants to talk, he's always there. Jason rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe Dick just... Cared about him. You don't just care about people. What a weird fucking concept. He just... Gave, and cared with his whole heart. He didn't deserve it, and he sure as hell didn't want-"Little Wing!" Dick called, while Jason covered himself on instinct, despite the fact that he was clothed. A smile was on his face, the only one who could genuinely smile, it seemed. His smile, genuine and wholehearted, but his eyes spoke measures just as his smile. Broken, sad, feeling... Used?
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Slade Wilson
Comments: 34
Kudos: 377





	Bad News

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I'm using my hotspot instead of internet which means yay! I can post again, but it has to be sparingly. Unfortunately, this is the only thing I have, but it's also 6000 words and it took me three days to write and 12 hours to format. I also lost inspiration to write after this unless I rewrite my first fic (not even up for a month and yet I already can't stand it). I'll rewrite it with chapter 2, but this time it'll be stated JayRoy since I am an entity of chaos.
> 
> Warning: this fic is rated mature for underage abuse and prostitution, mentions of STDs, intentionally triggering someone, homophobic language, dissociation (kinda), non sexual bed wetting or wet dream, somewhat graphic depictions of sexual abuse, self blame, underage drinking and smoking, and nightmares. Also a reference to the Mirage incident.
> 
> Originally, I was gonna throw in a downer ending but thought "Nah, this is graphic and Jason's suffered enough in this fic."
> 
> Bolded indicates graphic scene, so if it gets too intense, please skip the scene. If you need anything bolded, please let me know!

Furious wasn't the word to describe Bruce. He was already way past that. He wanted to throw his phone into the nearest wall and strangle whoever the fuck wrote that article. How the _fuck_ did they even get that information? Did Jason know? Oh, god, he hoped not, but the boy deserved to know. He tossed his phone on the table and headed upstairs. He heard a faint sob break out from his room and that was enough to have him sprinting to his son's room. A concerned parent's sprint could rival the speed of a Flash. He knocked on Jason's door, only for it to open with a creak. On his computer laid the accursed article.

_'Second Wayne Child A Child Prostitute?'_

Bruce was going to sue someone. Or ten people. He hated thinking about his Jaylad's past. He was only 10 years old at the time. How could people be that horrible? If only he'd found him sooner... Imagine all of the pain that could have been prevented.

"Jaylad?" He asked, and the ball of teenage Jason tensed up tighter. It'd been two years since Jason was taken in, and trying to talk to him about these things was still like talking to a brick wall.

"They said you'd just want me to use me."

"You know that's not-"

"I _know_ , Bruce." Something in him just... Broke in that moment. He looked at his father with a sniffle. "I know I'm a whore, B, but... Now everybody knows and now you're gonna get those accusations again. You only wanted me to use and that shit." Bruce tried to keep his Batman growl in his throat. He remembered the press with Dick, starting up rumors about how he'd had less than ideal intentions with the boy.

"Jay." He put his broad hands on his son's shoulders. He was still so small... "Listen to me. None of this is your fault, okay?" Jason was expecting the _'you did what you could to survive on the streets'_ talk like Bruce always did when they talked about this. It was almost patronizing at this point, because the words never took the feeling of filth away. It still clung to him under his bones. Being a child prostitute was deeper than skin filth, no matter how many bodily fluids ended up on him. He remembered some of the men would beat the shit out of him after they had their way, taking their money back, along with a tip. A few more tears rolled down his cheeks at the all too painful memories that still felt like just yesterday. He didn't hear most of what Bruce was saying. Bruce knew, because he saw the way his eyes lost focus and his mouth dropped into a slight gape, brows furrowed. He waited for his son, because while he was trying to have an important talk, he needed to hear this the most. He grabbed his attention with a deep sigh. filled with heartbreak and fury. He'd hoped it would be enough. "They won't get away this, okay? I promise." Bruce wiped his tears while Jay nodded.

Bruce had stayed with Jason the whole day while he made multiple phone calls. Jason read silently, the room being filled with an occasional sob from memories that made fury twist in Bruce's gut, to an audible gasp with a hand over his mouth at a particularly interesting plot twist. A few twists even earned a loud cry of "No!" It was a bit endearing how his son was so vocal with his reactions in books. He remembered a few snippets of Jason's own writing. While he needed some help with a few things - not that Bruce would approach him as he had invaded the boy's privacy, he could very well become an author if he wanted to. He sighed and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose at hearing bullshit about how that article couldn't be removed. Bruce left the room promptly.

"No, you listen to me. The only people who knew about that were me and his doctor! That means somebody invaded our privacy to get that information! I want that down as soon as you can! I will not stand for my son being dragged through the mud like that! You should be ashamed for exploiting his past like that!" He didn't take any excuses. "No, I don't care what it takes! I want that paper down within the hour or I will sue you for every last dime you have! I can and I will! I want that paper gone or so help me-!"

The article was down within the hour, but Bruce knew it wouldn't make any difference. People had paper copies before they were pulled, and everyone had already seen it. The damage had already been done.

* * *

Tonight was a bad night, even if the article was gone. It took him two hours to get to bed. Bruce went on patrol without him, he knew, but he wouldn't bring it up. He knew Gotham needed the Batman, and while it pissed him off, Bruce's reasoning was sound. He was very distressed, but he felt like Bruce was treating him like he was fragile. He knew he wasn't and Bruce was right to go without him, Jason could barely stand with all of the thoughts racing through his head. He could barely breathe, and he couldn't even get a restful sleep.

**Too many hands. Too many, touching him in places that made him afraid. Too many hands in him, violating, taking and spreading their filth, adding to the pain that never seemed to leave his body. They took and gave. They ruined him. Defiled. Disgusting. Unloved, unworthy, vile, worthless whore! Hands on his hips, on his sides, thighs, chest. They're everywhere, please make it stop, make it go away. Blood dropping from between his thighs and tears streaming down his cheeks while they took and took. Willis was right. It was all he'd be good for. It's all he was and ever will be. A toy meant to be discarded after being broken too many times over to count. His cries in the alley going ignored as he fought bile in his throat. Even if he spent a full year in the shower, the filth would never go away. He'd die with it. It was buried deep and each new time added filth like a knife wound. Hell, a knife wound hurt less than this. Please, please, please, no more! Nonononono, please-**

Jason woke up from his sleep with a loud sob, tears running down his flushed cheeks. He felt disgusting. He peeled the blanket off his fully clothed body. He looked down, noticing the damp patch between his legs. He choked for a second, as if trying to come to any logical conclusion. He only thought about how disgusting it was, how disgusting he was. Was he some sort of disgusting freak for reacting like this?

_Unclean, unclean, dirty, dirty, dirty. Whore, filthy. Vile._

Jason arched forward off the bed and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor. He openly sobbed between retches that made disgusting wet sounds. He trembled, hands clutching his sweat-dampened hair. Footsteps thundered upstairs and Alfred had knocked on the door, before opening it as slowly and quietly as possible.

"Master Jason!" Alfred was definitely alarmed. He looked like how he did when comforting Bruce after one of his nightmares. Jason heard them sometimes after his own. "The gun, Alfred. The- Mom's pearls." He'd have laughed at how human Bruce sounded, if it were not because he'd woken up, still taking minutes to realize he wasn't eight years old in an alleyway. Jason shuddered. He'd been in that same area multiple times, all for the same thing. He wishes he were killed one of those times. Another statistic. All he was and all he'd ever be: homeless statistic, abuse statistic, rape statistic, what else would a murder statistic do? He was brought out of his haze by a pair of hands on his shoulders.

_Hands on his shoulders, dragging him down to his knees, and-_

Jason screamed. There was no fury, just hurt, pleading, as if someone would listen in and save him before things went too far. Unfortunately, it didn't work that way in Crime Alley. He put his hands against Alfred's chest, pushing him away.

"Don't touch me! Don't fuckin' touch me!" He screamed, looking around. This wasn't a dingy alleyway. This was Wayne Manor. Wayne Manor, Bruce... He curled in on himself and hugged his knees, loud, ugly sobs wracking the walls. People would think it were haunted, if people had lived nearby, that was. Those who lived nearby usually weren't home. He clutched his shins until crescent moons of nail indents formed on his skin under. He didn't notice they were bleeding until a trickle of it hit his ankle.

"Master Jason," Alfred tried again. "You are safe here at the Wayne Manor. Nobody has hurt you." _Yet_ , but Jason couldn't bring himself to speak. Only wheeze out hiccupping sobs. "You are safe." Alfred kept his distance this time. Jason briefly looked up, red rimmed eyes filled with tears as snot ran down his nose.

"I need a shower." He took in a shaky breath. "Fuckin' disgusting." He muttered, a razor on his tongue and poison within his lips, seething with pain.

"I can arrange that, Master Jason. Your bed shall be fixed and I will have new pajamas laid out." He nodded, heading to the shower. More to cry rather than wash himself, but it made him feel better, even if only by a fraction. A fraction of progress was better than none. He stepped out with a robe on, seeing his pajamas with a tray of warm cookies and some warm milk. Just how long was he in the shower for Alfred to make cookies? He'd rather not think about it now, and instead thought of the smile that crept up on his lips.

Bruce, coincidentally, returned from patrol early.

* * *

  
Jason groaned when he got back from patrol, heading straight for the shower, hissing as the warmth of the water hit his battered body. He felt a sudden urge to cry, his hands trembling as he curled up. He felt a lone tear roll down his cheek until he heard a crash come from upstairs.

"Master Richard!"

Jason groaned. He and Dick were doing better but now? Dickwad Grayson has the _worst_ fucking timing. He stood up and turned the water off, slipping into his shirt and jeans. Maybe Dick wouldn't know he's here if he just kept his head low and hung out in the cave, Dick would do whatever he needed to do and fuck off back to Blüdhaven. He really, really did not feel like talking about the article and his trauma. He hadn't been there that day and this was the first time he saw him since that, so Dick would probably ask him too many questions about how he's feeling, and if he wants to talk, he's always there. Jason rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe Dick just... Cared about him. You don't just care about people. _What a weird fucking concept_. He just... Gave, and cared with his whole heart. He didn't deserve it, and he sure as hell didn't want-

"Little Wing!" Dick called, while Jason covered himself on instinct, despite the fact that he was clothed. A smile was on his face, the only one who could genuinely smile, it seemed. His smile, genuine and wholehearted, but his eyes spoke measures just as his smile. Broken, sad, feeling... _Used_? "It's been a few weeks, how are you?" He asked, putting his hand on the sides of his arms. Jason forced a smile to his lips.

"Fine." Jason ground out. He looked at Grayson. Goddamnit. He couldn't ignore the Dick Grayson Sad Eyes™, so he swallowed down the lump in his throat. "The fuck's up with you?" If anybody else asked Dick like that, it would sting a little, but Dick knew that was Jason's way of asking, as rude as it was.

"It's... Complicated." Dick hesitated. It was true, but he still didn't know how to process this yet. "How have you been holding up with... You know, the article?" Yup, bingo, jackpot, there it was. The million dollar question Dick wanted the answer to the second he set foot in Gotham. "Has anybody at school been giving you trouble?" There have been a few... Instances, but it wasn't anything bad, so what was the point in bringing it up? _He could handle it himself. Everything was fine, he was fine-_

"I'm fine, Dick." His words came out harder than even he expected. Dick flinched away from him. "I can handle myself." Dick sighed, running a hand through his fluffy hair. Jason wanted to play with it. It looked... Comforting. He shook his head. No, that was weird and disgusting.

"That's not the point, Little Wing. I didn't know..." Jason scowled.

"If you're going to give me some patronizing bullshit, save it."

"No, of course not. I... I brought you something." Jason's brows raised in confusion. What could he possibly give Jason? He handed him a bag. His puzzled expression was picture worthy, it made Dick's heart swell with fondness. He actually looked like the child he was, instead of being... There, but just in Jason Todd's body. Jason's confusion turned to apprehension when he saw the black, fuzzy pajama set. Jason opened his mouth to say something, but all he wondered was if it was soft as his hair.

Dick chuckled. "I mean, you can feel my hair for a comparison?" Fuck, Jason said that out loud, he was so fucked. Fuck. Wait... Did Dick just offer to let him feel his hair? Fucking Grayson, what a wild, strange man. Jason, however, didn't refuse the offer. Instead, he slowly reached his hand out, running his fingers through it. It was silky soft, not a tangle or imperfection to be felt or seen. Dick was... Warm. He brought his other hand over and began running his fingers through it. Holy shit, his hair was as soft as the pajamas.

"This doesn't weird you out?" Jason asked, twirling a lock of it.

"Nah. I have ADHD, and I play with my own hair way more often than I should." Oh yeah, Jason forgot about Dick's 'buy one mental illness, get two free' deal. Speaking of which...

"Dick, did you take your mood stabilizers?" Dick hesitated.

"Yeah." Aww, Jay cares! He wouldn't say that unless he wanted a punch to the throat and a kick to the shins. He also enjoyed seeing Jason so... Happy, and peaceful. Jason looked sick all of a sudden. He knew that sick look. That inability to sleep because of nightmares. Which also meant Jay was about to deflect.

"How's your 'it's complicated' relationship, Dickhead?" Jason asked abruptly. Dick took a sharp inhale.

"Kori and I broke up." Jason looked almost offended. He really liked Kori!

"Why?" He asked. Dick took in another breath, barely managing to conceal his tremble.

"It'll be a story for when you're older." Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Is it sex? I mean, I've got lotsa pointers." Dick grimaced. _Right_ , child prostitute. He hated thinking of that.

"No, no... It's just... An adult matter." What else was he supposed to say? _'Yeah, Little Wing, I know you're traumatized but this woman from the future pretended to be my girlfriend and my real girlfriend broke up with me when she found out and said I should have known!'_ He looked betrayed, violated. Jason knew that look. Time to add someone to his shit list. Who the fuck hurt this walking sunshine man?

"Oh. Well, the second I turn 18, I expect to sit the fuck down and talk about it." Jason flinched at his hypocrisy. He wanted Dick to talk about what happened to him, but he wouldn't breathe a word of his own trauma to anybody even if they held a gun to his head. Dick nodded with a laugh, ruffling Jason's hair, who gave an indignant squawk and accidentally tugged on Dick's hair, who in turn winced. Maybe Dick would 'accidentally' leave some of his conditioner in the manor. His hair felt a little dry.

"There's still one more thing, Little Wing." Dick said. "Be right back." Jason looked disappointed. His hair was soft... Oh, it's settled, he'd leave some of his conditioner so Jason could play with his own hair when Dick wasn't around. That disappointed look stung like a papercut doused in a gallon of hand sanitizer. It wasn't a look befitting Jason, or any child. Dick came back in, hands behind his back and his cheeks looked a little wet. Was Dick... _Crying_? Dick put his hands out, showing his gift to Jason. It was...

An elephant?

"Dick, what are you-?"

"My mama bought this the day I met Zitka. He helped me through a lot. You can rename him, or her, if you want, but I named him after my friend. He was always there for me." A pained, wistful look came to his features. "The night my parents died, I felt so alone... Then I remembered Zitka… Even though they died, he let me sleep peacefully. Bruce offered to fix him up, but I liked him better that way with the wear. It shows how he was there for me."

"And you're telling me this because...?"

"He's yours now, Little Wing. He helped me a lot, and now the time comes for him to help someone new."

"Dick, I don't need to sleep with a stuffed animal."

"I understand, but I still want you to have him. He meant a lot to me, still does, so that's why I'm giving him to you. Even if you don't need him, he's yours. I talked to him when I had no one else, and if you want, maybe he can help you like he did for me." Jason just looked at Dick, mouth agape. This was his... This was Dick's most prized possession, and the golden boy just... Gave him away, to him, to Jason. Jason didn't register the arms around him, until he was wrapping his own arms around the man embracing him. Jason didn't realize he was crying until Dick's hand was in his hair, stroking it. "I love you so, so much Little Wing." He said, and Jason was oddly calm about those three words. He planted a kiss on his little brother's forehead, before planting a kiss on the elephant's. "I will miss you, Zitka. Jason will take good care of you now." He whispered, wiping a few tears of his own. That didn't do anything, because the two sat there for the longest time, crying in each other's arms.

"Me too, Dick." Dick smiled, knowing that was his version of 'I love you'. When Dick went back to Blüdhaven, he was sure to leave some of his shampoo and conditioner. Jason slept with Zitka that night, having the first peaceful night of sleep since as long as he could remember.

He promptly renamed him 'Dickie Zitka'.

* * *

Jason winced as he opened his locker. A single note fell out. Jason could only wonder what it said. He opened it anyways and winced. Scrawled on the paper in red lipstick was a single word: ' _FAGGOT'_.

Jason sighed. Come on, he's heard it at _least_ eight times this week, rich people need to start being more creative, but it still didn't hurt any less than the first time he'd been called such a thing. He walked past the students. trying to drown out the whispers.

"Isn't he the child prostitute Wayne took in?"

"I heard that he has AIDS."

"I wonder if he'd get on his knees if I offered him 20 bucks."

Jason's expression glazed over, his breath starting to come by more scarcely. He trembled. It's been a month since the article, and they were still talking about it, filling in the new kids about 'Wayne's Whore'. He tightened up. No, no, please not here, not here-

**The sensations were back, touching him and rubbing him. Touches that were a mockery of a true lover's gentle touch. They wiped his tears as they violated him, acting as if he had no reason to cry. Acting like his tears were a mere inconvenience. They kept assaulting him, masked as love. Love was bitter, tasted bitter, everything was bitter. Everything was cold. Everything was filthy, most of all, Jason. Whore, whore, harlot. They whispered poisonous words infecting his mind, his body, his everything, with honey coating the words, as if it would numb the poison and make everything better. Their actions were fire and their words were toxic. He didn't know what hurt more, the crippling nausea from their toxicity, or the agony of the burn in his body, burning his lungs until he was choking and left unable to breathe. Disgusting, faggot, slut. That fire spread until he couldn't think, and all he was left able to do was take. Take what he deserved. It left emptiness and filth in it's wake, dragging him down, further and further. Bitter, cold, nothingness, burning, agony-**

"Jaylad, can you hear me?" Bruce? What was he doing here? His eyes darted around. It was so dark, dark like the alley. _He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't feel-_

"Mr. Wayne, you cannot remove your son-" Bruce shot the teacher a glare.

"Jason is my son, and I refuse to let him continue his school day while he is very clearly distressed." He looked at his son once more, making sure not to touch him, lest he get attacked by all 4'6 of Jason's rage, and potentially expose himself as Robin. "Jaylad, it's me, Bruce."

"Dad...?" Jason asked, eyes still unfocused as he began to reach around. He heard him, but where was he? Dad?

"You're going to feel a hand on your shoulder, okay, Jay? It's me, Bruce, okay? You're alright. You're safe." His son needed him. At least Jason was aware now about Bruce going to touch him, but it still didn't stop the way Jason's body tensed up, as if expecting someone else who had much more sinful ideas on what to do with a 15 year old boy. Bruce's heart both sank and flared with rage. The teachers surrounding Jason stepped back, muttering amongst themselves. Jason was shaking, tears running down his cheeks, but he made no move to shove Bruce off him.

"Dad?" Jason's voice was a whisper while he began to come to. He looked at his sweat soaked clothes and the hands on his shoulders. "Bruce?" He asked, trying to confirm if he was back, if this was real. "Where?"

"You're at school, Jay, but I'll take you home and you can read as long as you like." Jason's smile was weak, but it was regardless a smile. "I've got you, son."

"Okay, Bruce." Bruce, surprisingly meant it. Usually, _'read as long as you want'_ meant until bedtime, but it was well past 3 in the morning and he was in the middle of A Midsummer Night's Dream. He held the book in one hand, Dickie Zitka cuddled under his empty arm. He wouldn't admit it to Dick, but his nightmares were always less intense with the little stuffed elephant.

Of course, all good things come to an end back at school. This time, it was at lunch. He sat alone, as per the usual when you were both a poor kid and surrounded by kids who thought STDs could be spread by even breathing in his direction. Rich people are fucking wild. Then, this kid comes up to him. Blonde hair, blue eyes, tall for his age, without an imperfection to be seen. Kind of like- no, actually, nothing like Grayson. Grayson was nice and not a condescending, patronizing asshole. Not intentionally, at least. This kid screamed _'rich asshole'_ stereotype. Hell, he was a 'Junior', and if that didn't scream 'uptight fuckwad', Jason didn't know what did.

"So, I presume you are who all of these rumors are about?" Jason offered a curt nod. He just wanted to be left alone to eat in peace, but no, rich people did as they pleased. "So you're pretty popular." Jason sighed.

"Where is this going?" Jason asked.

"Well, does having an STD hurt? Like, what kind is it? Like, HIV? Chlamydia?" Jason heaved out a sigh.

"Even if I had an STD, it would not be anybody's business." He fold his arms. "Next question."

"What's it like living with Bruce?" Jason glared. This seemed... Oddly suspicious.

"Better than my old life." Jason shot a pointed look. Bruce taught kindness and patience, and while Jason was already kind - as kind as a Crime Alley kid could be, Crime Alley taught violence and to always be on your toes.

"What was your old dad like?"

"He isn't a father to me. That answer all your questions?" He could feel that grey dullness of the alley creeping up into his eyes and the sick try to settle within his stomach.

"Is that how you got started? Your dad?" Jason's Crime Alley side was coming out. He really wanted to punch the brat. That's how people were shut up on the street. Or found in a dumpster. "Bruce probably pays you so much more for your time." Jason's fists clenched while he rolled his shoulders. Calm down, Jason. The thought of Bruce, his father, being no better than the men who used him, made him sick and red flare in his skull. What if Bruce was just-?

"Was he the one that gave... Y'know... _'it_ ' to-" He winced as a fist collided with his jaw.

"Shut the fuck up! You don't know what you're talking about! You don't get to say shit like that about my dad!" The rage kept flaring as his fists kept coming down on his face, the kid so stupidly rich they'd probably not bothered with self defense training but instead hired bodyguards. Pathetic. This kid wouldn't last a minute on the street. He didn't hear the cries begging him to stop punching. He didn't stop even when his nose was heard shattering. He'd only stopped when he'd been dragged off by paramedics. Wait, when did the paramedics get here? How long had he been beating the little fucker?

Next thing he knew, they were in the office. Everything was pretty fuzzy. When did Bruce get here? Thankfully, the kid's parents didn't want to press charges, despite their son's insistence. They knew no good would come of suing Bruce Wayne.

"Mr. Wayne, your son hospitalized another student. We simply cannot-"

"He implied you only adopted me for a sex toy and gave me an STD!"

"Mr. Todd-Wayne, you will not speak until spoken to! The adults are talking!"

"Then why am I here?" Jason sneered.

"Mr. Wayne, may not discriminate but we do not-"

"Yeah, don't discriminate my ass! You only don't discriminate if they're rich like you! You saw five kids call me a whore, and you did nothing! Why? I'm not Bruce Wayne's son and never will be in your stupid snooty eyes! You will always think of me as some poor street rat who slithered into your ranks because this school is too good for my kind!"

"Mr. Todd-Wayne! You have already made enough students uncomfortable as is! You cannot expect-!" Bruce couldn't stop the Batman growl even if he tried.

"You knew about what was going on with my son? Yet did nothing?!"

He defended his dad from an asshole, didn't get expelled, and he was getting ice cream. Unfortunately, he had to help Alfred with chores except cooking for an entire month. Hey, he'd still chalk it up to a good day. He'd miss cooking with Alfie for a month, though.

* * *

Robin sat on the rooftop, sighing as he pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit the cancer stick. This was... _Not_ a good night. He didn't want to think for once. Not after he heard _"I wonder if Batman uses his Robin like Bruce uses his boy."_ He remembered being taken away for a brief while, while they investigated Bruce. He hated the questions, hated that they treated him like he wasn't a person. He didn't want to go into the system again. He took another drag of the cigarette, trying to cloud his mind with the toxic haze instead of the filth that usually numbed his mind. He heard somebody land on the roof behind him.

"Slade." Jason said, assuming by the weight of the landing, it was more metallic armor than kevlar.

"Little Robin." He said, approaching the kid. "Mind if I smoke with you?"

"Not like I'm on Wayne Enterprises. Shit's free reign. You'd do it anyways even if I told you to fuck off." Slade chuckled. He remembered that time, but looking at the kid then and now, he seemed... Sad. He remembered when Robin told him to choke on a dick or ten. Not even a sarcastic quip. He grunted in acknowledgement and sat next to him.

"It's a school night. What are you doing here at almost 4 in the morning, kid?" Jason snorted as he handed Slade a cigarette.

"What are you, my fuckin' dad or something?" Jason gawked. "Don't tell me you're getting soft and have grown to care about me, Slade!" Slade rolled his eye. That was the kid he knew.

"No way, kid. Just don't want you distracted is all. Being distracted in our line of work, whether it be a mercenary-" He gestured to himself. "Or vigilante-" He pointed to Jason, who flipped him off. "It's any distraction that will get you killed. You have that distracted look, Robin." Jason rolled his eyes.

"So you're my therapist now?"

"Hey, long, tan, and handsome, his words, not mine, used to sit on rooftops when we weren't trying to kill each other. Well, when I wasn't trying to kill him. Sometimes, we'd watch the sky, other times, he got really deep, asking if he was doing the right thing, or if things would be different had he not been taken in by Batman."

"Well, that's D- Nightwing, not me." Jason folded his arms.

"I already know who all of you are." He knew Jason better than the kid thought, but given the amount of trauma plaguing him, he'd doubt if Jason remembered him shooting one of the politicians in the alley after he'd had his way with Jason. He wasn't there to stop it, but at least he'd never put his hands on another kid. The thought of that happening to one of his kids made his heart hurt, so he made sure he'd kill anybody who'd do such a thing. "How's the investigation?" Jason glared.

"How do- right. It's closing up now."

"I read the paper, kid."

"Why do you care?" He was right. Why did he care? Something twisted in Slade when he imagined Robin was one of his children in such a horrible situation. He noticed Jason looked like a hurt animal. It twisted further.

"Who published the paper?" Jason shrugged. Oh well, Slade would find out anyways. "Don't like the thought of a distracted vigilante. A distracted teenage vigilante is why I 'care', as you put it." Jason rolled his eyes.

"I never thought I'd see the day _Slade fucking Wilson_ used air quotes." Slade nodded, holding his hand out for another cigarette. "I got booze too, if you want."

"Exhilarating." Slade mused sarcastically. "Can't drink, kid. Never know when I have a job."

"Just a shot?" Slade shook his head, but took the shot glass filled with Fireball.

"The things I do for you birds." Slade downed the shot. Given the serum, he could live with one shot. Jason was on his third, or maybe fourth? Slade lost count. "So, I heard you put a kid in the hospital?" Jason froze.

"Yeah. He was talking shit about my dad." Slade felt a rush come over him. Pride? Bruce had a good kid on his hands. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but he also saw the kid at his worst. He's seen people go through less and come out in worse shape.

"Does that happen a lot?" Apparently, alcohol seemed to be like a truth serum for the little bird.

"Yeah." Jason shrugged. "I'm used to it, though. I'm a street rat. Heard worse, been through worse. They either talk shit or avoid me. Some of them think it's funny to try and upset me on purpose." Yeah, this was officially Slade's business. Hell, it was his business the second he saw the kid smoke. He never smoked unless he was stressed out, and he was already pulling out a second pack of cigarettes. Should Slade stop him? He'd ruin his lungs. Then again, Slade knew Jason would say it wasn't his place to tell him. He'd be sure to look up the kid in the hospital, and the author of that article.

"Maybe you shouldn't have any more, kid." Jason started to glare. "Since, you know, you don't want to go home to Batman smelling like two packs of cigarettes and a bottle of whiskey." Jason grunted. He had a point. He lit the cigarette between his lips, taking a drag.

"Alright, this is my last one, since I'm gonna have to let this shit air out. Don't wanna smell like a strip club." Jason let out a dry chuckle. "I'll wake him up if I smelled this bad." Slade paused.

"He doesn't know you're out?" Jason shook his head.

"Nah, we got into it." Oh jeez, this kid was just like his own, and would probably give him a heart attack. He remembered catching his kids sneaking back in after they left when they weren't supposed to. Slade didn't really say anything else until he saw Jason get up.

"Leaving so soon?" Jason laughed a little. He'd never heard him genuinely laugh before. Sure, he'd heard the ' _ha ha, gotcha'_ laugh at criminals before, but not... This. It was actually kind of endearing.

"Yeah. I have school." Jason turned around. "Can you clothes check me?" Slade nodded. The smell had dissipated over the hour, but it was still pretty prominent. "Also, I'm thinking of getting a tattoo the next time Bruce pisses me off. What do you think?" Slade couldn't help his laugh. Wow, this kid sure was not only a tough little fucker, but an absolute bastard.

"Make sure to thoroughly clean your suit, kid. You still smell like a chimney." Jason folded his harms with a pout. "As for the tattoo, I want to be there when he founds out. That, that I would pay to see." Jason snorted. "I remember Bruce's reaction to Dick's tattoo." Jason looked at Slade, incredulous.

"He has a tattoo?!" Slade nodded.

"Oh, very much so. He has several. The golden boy isn't as golden as Bruce wants you to think." With that, he left, as Jason was left standing on the roof trying to process what the fuck he'd just heard.

The author of the article was found dead the next morning, and quite a few kids apologized to Jason the second he set foot in the school. Jason, despite the fact a man was killed in his name, smiled.

His murder uncle always came through.

**Author's Note:**

> Dick, with anything else: Yeah, I got this!
> 
> Dick, with his mood stabilizers: hMM-
> 
> I hope you liked this fic, and as always, please let me know if you need tags added!


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